


The Storm

by Maegfen



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Marcus Kane in hero mode, Prompt inspired, Some Fluff, Some angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-04
Updated: 2014-08-04
Packaged: 2018-02-11 19:06:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2079714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maegfen/pseuds/Maegfen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"He could lose her today. He could lose her and never find her and he’s not sure he’d be able to function without her by his side." - In which Abby is lost and Kane races to save her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Storm

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by the fact that several of us want more of Hero!Kane next season, and tried to come up with scenarios which would allow this. This one is based on: Abby being caught in the middle of a storm and gets lost/ injured...Marcus has to find and save her."
> 
> It starts off a bit angsty and then ends up unashamedly fluffy because I can't seem to help it with these two...
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

He’d warned her. Warned her then _specifically_ told her _not_ to go out of the camp until the storm had passed, but she’d _insisted_ and given him ‘the look’ and when she does that he can’t deny her anything. So now he’s sat, cold and shivering, in the middle of Security with no one but a ridiculously wet Sinclair for company. The rain is lashing through the flaps of the door and is drenching them both. The other man isn’t talking to him, instead choosing to concentrate on the screen in front of him, as he is. They’re attempting to track the course of the storm, but the strength of it is messing with the satellite feed. They’re essentially in the dark.

Marcus clutches to the radio in his hand, the only lifeline he has to her. He’s not heard from her in over an hour and he’s starting to get desperate, just wants to hear her voice telling him that she’s found shelter in a cave somewhere. Every minute that ticks by without a sound from her weighs on his shoulders, his thoughts, his heart. He could lose her today. He could lose her and never find her and he’s not sure he’d be able to function without her by his side.

Suddenly a crackle sounds from the radio. Sinclair looks up at the noise, startled.

 “Abby?” Marcus shouts into the receiver, trying to hear himself over the howling of the wind. “Abby, where are you?”

There’s nothing but static and Marcus looks up at Sinclair pleadingly, begging him to find a solution.

“I can try and boost the satellite signal Sir,” he says, moving to one of the communication stations. “It might not work with the interference from the storm, but you may be able to get something.”

“Do whatever it takes,” Marcus replies, his attention focused solely on the radio in his hand. Sinclair adjusts something and nods at him.

“Abby,” he tries again. “Abby can you hear me?”

Static again and Marcus almost throws the radio across the shelter in anger.

Then, suddenly:

“..rcus? …ou there? ... hurt… tree fe… ank… help…”

She sounds desperate, and in pain and Marcus’s heart wrenches. Where is she? He can’t help her if he doesn’t know where she is…

“Abby… where are you? I need to know where you are, then I’ll come and get you. Just give me a landmark, anything…”

“Nex…lake… cabi…”

He knows then, knows where she is; they’d been there weeks before, scouting the area for new food sources. They’d spotted an old cabin by the lake and taken a rest break inside, and then one thing had inevitably led to another. It had become _their_ cabin, theirs and theirs alone.

_He knows where she is…_

He jumps up immediately, pressing the radio to his lips, as close to a kiss as he can give her.

“I’m coming Abby, just hold on. I’m coming to get you.”

He shoves the radio in his pocket, grabs a flashlight and a small first aid kit and moves towards the door.

“Sir!” Sinclair shouts, putting a hand on his shoulder, “Sir, it’s not safe.”

“I’m going to get her!” Marcus replies desperately, shrugging off the man’s touch. “You’re in charge until I get back… make sure someone’s here to care for her when we return.”

Sinclair goes to respond but chooses not to. Instead he nods and watches Marcus leave out of the doorway into the driving rain.

*~*~*

He runs. He can barely see where he’s going and the sound from the rain buffeting against the forest is deafening, but he is focused and determined. He must find her. He _will_ find her. He will _not_ lose her.

The cabin isn’t far, but there is the wind and the rain and the lightning to deal with. Animals scatter in front of him, spooked by the noises of the storm but Marcus ignores them; they are not what he needs to find.

He is exhausted and wet and freezing but he does not stop. He needs to find her. He knows she’s hurt, but she’s strong, _so_ strong, that he knows she’ll be ok. She has to be.

And then, finally he sees it; the cabin. He calls her name frantically, knowing it is futile; he can hardly hear himself above the noise of the storm ahead, there is little hope for her.

She isn’t inside, hasn’t made it that far, so he pulls out his flashlight and looks for her. It reminds him of the last time he saved her; not knowing what he’d find in the darkness of the Service Bay but praying it would be her. He spots something in the distance, a fallen tree...

He races towards it, reaches it and slams his fist into the bark in frustration when she isn’t in sight. He ignores the blood that pours from the fresh wound on his knuckles. Where _is_ she?

Then Marcus hears it; a low moan of pain from nearby. He follows it and sighs in relief as he sees her. She is bleeding and shivering and looks in so much pain that he stumbles to his knees in his bid to reach her.

“Abby?” he says softly, unsure whether she can hear him. “Abby, come on. Wake up.”

It’s a horrible feeling of déjà vu but he doesn’t care; she’s safe and back with him. She doesn’t answer him and a wave of panic hits him.

“Abby?” He tries again, cupping his hands on her cheeks. She feels like ice…

“Marcus?” she whispers, he voice stuttering from the cold that flows through her. “’s that you?”

“It’s me Abby,” he reassures her, gripping her hand when her eyes finally focus on his. “I’m here, I’ve got you.” He pretty sure she’s suffering from hypothermia; he needs to get her dry and warm before her body shuts down. He notes that her ankle is bleeding, but doesn’t seem broken so he carefully lifts her into his arms and carries her back to the cabin. He is wet through but he doesn’t care.

The door of the cabin sticks a little as he tries to open it, and he kicks it in frustration. The door swings open and he moves them immediately towards the small sofa against the wall. It isn’t clean but they’d brought fresh blankets to lie on last time they were here. The wind and rain, thankfully, isn’t leaking into this part of the room so Marcus places Abby carefully on the sofa before going back and slamming the door closed. He grabs the radio and tries to get through to Sinclair, while he haphazardly wraps his still bleeding hand. He can’t get through to the camp so he tosses the radio to the side and ignores it. He’ll sort everything out when the storm passes. Right now he needs to save Abby, needs to get her temperature up before she goes into shock. Her ankle seems to have stopped bleeding. It doesn’t _look_ broken, just very swollen so he ignores it for the moment… his biggest concern is her shivering. He grabs the blankets and looks at her. She can’t stay in her wet clothes and neither can he. He knows what he needs to do, and he hurries as Abby slips in an out of consciousness.

Normally he takes his time undressing her, but this is not a seduction, this is life or death for her, for them. He strips off his own clothing after hers and wraps the blanket round them as tight as he can, glad to feel her next to him but praying to God that he reached her in time. He knows the odds, knows that this might not even work. But he has to try; for her. He clings to her in the darkness of the night.

He holds her for hours, doesn’t sleep, doesn’t take his eyes off her. Ticks off a mental checklist every time he sees her improve as he holds her close; the shivering stops, her feet warm up, color returns to her cheeks. He watches. Waits. Holds his breath. Waits for the storm to pass.

*~*~*

She survives, makes it through the night. Marcus breathes a sigh of relief as she finally awakens in his arms, confusion etched on her face. He loosens the blankets a little to give them some space to move.

“Marcus?” she whispers, her voice hesitant. “What… where?”

“We’re in the cabin,” he says simply, watching her take in their surroundings.

“We’re naked.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“What do you remember from yesterday?”

“I got caught in the storm. A tree fell I think; I fell getting out of the way, twisted my ankle. I don’t remember much after that.”

“I had to come and rescue you,” he confides and pulls her closer. He holds her wrist in his fingers, feeling the blood pump through her body, her pulse a reassurance that she is _alive_.

“Thank you,” she answers and drops a kiss on his chest. She looks at his hand, the bandage still wrapped around it.

“What did you do?”

“I punched a tree,” he offers as an explanation.

“I see,” she doesn’t ask for further details, as if the wound explains itself.

They are silent for a few minutes.

“We’re naked in the cabin again,” she chuckles out of the blue as she shifts under the blanket, then moans as she catches her ankle on his calf.

“Yes,” he mutters quietly, pulling her closer to him again. “But this time it _was_ to save your life.”

She gives him a questioning look, her eyebrow raised.

“You had hypothermia,” he states. “I figured this was the best way to help you.”

She gives him a look, smiles and leans over for another kiss.

“I guess I should thank you properly then,” she whispers, moving to straddle him and Marcus thinks that this is probably a bad idea. She’d only just survived and she should be recovering and…

“Oh come on Marcus,” she jokes, pressing her chest against his and nipping his earlobe. He fights back a moan, digs his fingers slightly into her hips. This woman should _not_ have this effect on him. “We _are_ already naked… it would be a shame to waste the opportunity.”

“But you’re still reco…” he stops as she moves against him, the movement subtle but enough to temporarily distract him from his protests.

“I feel fine. Plus, out of the two of us, who is the medical professional?”

He sighs, and flips them over carefully, hovering above her. He leans down, kisses her, bites softly at her neck.

“If you’re sure?”

“Oh yes,” she laughs, the sound heavenly to his ears… he thought he’d never hear it again. He’d come so close to losing her last night. “I’m still feeling a little cold on the inside Marcus; maybe you could warm me up?”

He laughs then, bending down to kiss her again and to do as she commands…

*~*~*

Hours later, when they are dressed and warm again, Marcus finally gets through to Sinclair. He lets him know that they are on their way back; that Abby is ok, but will need a few days bed rest when she returns.

Abby frowns at this; the swelling is already starting to go down in her ankle. Marcus senses her confusion, had expected it.

“I insist,” Marcus says after he finishes with Sinclair and is helping her get ready to leave. “I nearly lost you yesterday Abby. I was… I was _terrified_ and I want... no, need to know that you’re fully recovered before you go back to work. Please, for my sake?”

She reaches for his hand then, and entwines their fingers.

“Ok,” she says simply. He knows she disagrees, that she’ll go stir crazy stuck in bed while life carries on the camp without her, but hopefully she’ll save the argument for another day. It’s unlikely, they hardly go 3 days without a disagreement but he doesn’t care. She’s alive and able to continue to argue with him, so he has little cause for complaints.

They turn to leave and Marcus notes that Abby is still struggling to put weight on her ankle, despite her insistence that it was feeling better. He sighs and moves across to her, reaching out and touching her gently on the shoulder, getting her attention.

“Here,” he says, scooping her up after he opens the door to the cabin. The fresh forest smell hits him full on, the atmosphere amongst the trees different after the storm. He shifts her slightly to better support her weight and takes a couple of steps into the morning light. The area is eerily quiet, and the two of them enjoy the hush and peace of it all; a stark constant to the violence of the day before.

He looks down at her and smiles. She smiles back, but he senses something and catches her eye. He is immediately suspicious.

“No,” he says simply, looking down at her as she settles more comfortably into his arms. It’s not the most practical way to get her back to camp but it’s the best he can do. “It’s not going to work.”

“What isn’t?”

“The ‘look’. The ‘I’m going to go against your orders and you’re going to let me’ look.”

“There’s isn’t a look.”

“There is. Now, if you even _think_ about doing work when I’ve told you not to I’ll,” he pauses, attempting to think of a suitable punishment, “I’ll be forced to tie you to the bed.”

“Promise?”

And like that they are back into their routine of joking and flirting and a sense of contentment washes over him. The last 12 hours are forgotten and the dread and fear leave Marcus as he laughs. He drops a gentle kiss on her forehead and starts the long walk back to camp. He finds, despite everything that happened, that he is happy; happy to have her back, happy to have her in his arms, happy to know that she is safe again.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think: kudos and comments make my day!


End file.
